My Love's Death
by God-Damned
Summary: Drarry Slash. One-shot. Draco POV.


**A second attempt at a one-shot and a first in Harry Potter. Comes hand-in-hand with my third/second.**

**Note:Slash and slight angst.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

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It was a clod night. He didn't expect it to be, but he hardly expected anything anymore. But he also didn't expect the Astronomy Tower to be empty too. Maybe they were all just waiting for this, planning for all that he wasn't. He wouldn't be surprised.

He sat down on the cold stone floor, colder than the night air, for a while before lying down on his back, the stone digging into his shoulder blades. He admired the stars with all its wonders and constellations for a while more, wondering if people really joined them after they died. Wondered if he'll join him. Secretly, he hoped so. He'd really like that.

He regretted it all now. Regretted what he had done. But even more, he regretted what he had not. He would have- could have- but he did not. And now he regretted it. It might have changed everything. It might not have happened, and so many other things would have. He could have saved him. And even better, he would have died in doing so. But, he guessed, if he had done all that he didn't, he wouldn't want to have died saving him. He wanted to live with him forever.

Really, was it too much for a boy to ask?

But still, he was sorry. So sorry he had decided to do this tonight. It was not any particular, chosen night. No. It didn't matter when or how, but _why_. Because he was sorry. So he just decided to do it and came up here. Nobody was here. And the whole thing wasn't really worth planning.

He stared up at the sky a bit more, blankly. He heard once that there was a constellation that held the same creature as that of his name. He never bothered to study into it then. Didn't bother now. But he wondered, just wondered, if he could see it now from where he lay if he _did_ recognize it.

Reaching absently into his pocket, he drew out the bit of parchment which he had torn off from one of his homework assignments. The bottom curves of a 'g' or 'y' could be seen at the top of the paper. From the other pocket with his other hand he drew out a small vial. The clear, dark green liquid seemed to sparkle as he looked through it at the distorted stars, dimmed and made emerald from its silver.

He had thought of the potion himself. He was, after all, the most brilliant in potion-brewing. How he had gotten the ingredients for it though, he still could not recall. His days now all pass in a daze.

He turned the vial above him, admiring the colour of the most beautiful green just like his. He hadn't expected it to turn this colour. But then again, he didn't expect anything, did he? But it was still ironic.

Suddenly, the perfect name came to him for the liquid in his palm. He wasn't thinking one for it, but since it came, he might as well. 'My Love's Death', he'll name it.

He vaguely thought of writing it down, to leave a final legacy to his name, but why bother? He then turned and looked at his other hand which held the now crumpled piece of parchment. He read what was written on it once through and hoped hopelessly, like everything else he did, that he would be able to read it.

But if he was able to, he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

With one last look at the green, slightly sparkly stars, he uncorked the vial and lifted his head slightly so as to bring his lips to the vial without spilling its contents and then lay back again so that the liquid flowed into his mouth and onto his tongue, his hand falling back to his side.

It was sweet. He expected it to be

He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

A girl screamed and several others gasped.

"What? What is it! This is supposed to be a lesson. Move out of the way. Move. Move! Let me through – oh lord!" The Astronomy professor rested a hand on a nearby shoulder to steady herself though the student wasn't in such a good state himself and his knees almost buckled from the sudden extra weight.

The professor gulped once more and tried to compose herself but what did one do in such a situation?

"Stand back, children. I said-"

The girl, a Slytherin from her robes, who had daringly stepped forward and bent down to pluck the parchment from loose, cold fingers gasped and her eyes watered, cutting the professor off. She looked back down at the body, pale and slightly blue from cold, almost glowing in the dark night. The professor walked over and took the small note from the girl's hand.

"Oh, my dear-" she, too, read the note and looked back down at the boy who, curled up on the floor, held the parchment so close to his heart just now and she had to hold back her tears too.

The note was simple. Short, and didn't say much but it held oh so much more.

_Harry,_

_I'm sorry. I'll love you forever._

_Draco

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**A/N: Set after Harry dies while defeating Voldermort. 7th year.

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This was in my mind from when I jusst started reading angsty HP fics. I hate angst. But I just wrote it. Read my other one.**


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